


qu'ils mangent de la brioche

by sexyspork



Series: for in every language, you are mine [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, I still feel like I'm going to hell for writing this, M/M, but not horrific, the NSA are a bunch of dicks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexyspork/pseuds/sexyspork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous: <a href="http://norsekink.livejournal.com/3231.html?thread=7360671#t7360671">Coulson/Hawkeye, slave!fic</a></p><p>
  <i>It doesn't matter how you do it: I just want to see Coulson owning Clint. Somehow-happy ending would be loved, but do what you like!</i>
</p><p>AKA the rather infamous Clint/Coulson & Fury/Natasha slavery-verse from norsekink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	qu'ils mangent de la brioche

**Author's Note:**

  * For [windsweptfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsweptfic/gifts).



> Slowly moving my stuff from LJ to AO3. And because this was written prior to the first Avengers, it's not compliant with anything in MCU. ~~Sorry not sorry.~~
> 
> Original notes: So when I was at work this morning, I was notified that the anon I wrote [servos ad pileum vocare](http://sexyspork.livejournal.com/44834.html#cutid1) for drew me [this](http://i51.tinypic.com/atx2q1.png) lovely picture. And then I was compelled to write more fic because it was _amazing_.

The anger has been kindling through the entirety of the gala, and instead of the beauty and glamor of the evening, all Steve can see is how his team mates are being treated. The party was organized by the Department of Defense and it’s various sub-agencies, at the beautiful Carlyle hotel in New York City, but hall was mostly packed of various important personages of the National Security Agency. Who, as Clint told him when the Avengers were notified of mandatory attendance, was SHIELDs nemesis in federal funding and their feuds were legendary in the counter-intelligence community.

And, as Clint had also said, nothing good would come for the Avengers if the NSA was in charge of the whole shebang.

And, as Steve glowered at where Natasha and Clint had been seated, Clint had been right.

While all SHIELD members present had been seated at various circular tables at the back of the room, Steve found it absolutely degrading that two of his teammates were being _forced to kneel_.

Well, Natasha was kneeling on the provided mat with such elegance that a geisha would have been hard pressed to not be envious, and she was doing it as if there was nowhere else she would rather be. Clint, however, was lounging, one knee drawn up to his chest as his other leg thrown over the side of the cushion. His back was leaning against Coulson's leg in a relaxed manner, and of course, was drawing many a glare at his indolent behavior.

Most agencies had enough respect for Natasha and Clint status as Avengers to at least let them have chairs, but not the NSA it seemed. It was like they were trying to remind everyone that they were _owned_ , and that wasn't even the worst part. The final straw was when the food was brought out.

It was all soups and pastas and everything that was impossible to eat by hand, and it was going to force Natasha and Clint to be fed like a babe one bite at a time from their respective handlers or they could not eat at all. It was a thought out decision to _humiliate_ them, and Steve began to stand, absolutely furious when Tony laid a hand on his arm, a smug air of _I know something you don’t_.

Pepper smirked behind her Blackberry to Tony’s left, and a new set of trays were brought out by women wearing positively indecent maid outfits. She did sigh, however, at the garish clothing but didn’t say a word as Tony leaned back in his chair when one of the trays was deposited as their table.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I hired my own catering company. Didn’t feel like using utensils.” Tony said airily to an NSA spook across the table, though he did throw their server a saucy wink as dried meats, fresh fruits, and still steaming rolls of bread made their way around the room.

Leaning over to his team mate, Steve gave the older man a grateful smile, “That was actually very kind, Tony.”

The genius shrugged, “It was all Pepper’s idea.”

Of course, someone who had been where Clint and Natasha are now would have planned ahead. And seeing Fury hand Natasha bread with strips of meat in it, and Coulson give Clint an unpeeled apple, something in him settled a bit.

\--

“I think Dr. Banner is losing control.” Pepper said quietly later on that evening, eyeing the scientist from her seat, and Steve had to concur. Bruce was looking rather green around the eyes.

“What set him off?” He asked a Pepper began to type into her phone, no doubt informing the SHIELD teams they had on standby for this very reason.

“Some colonel from the DOD asked Fury about setting up a breeding program for Natasha.”

“Christ,” Tony said even as Steve began to reach for his shield that he had stashed underneath the table. “I bet Fury has him on his hit list.”

“We need to get him away from the civilians, Pepper can you coordi-” Steve was cut off as Natasha rolled smoothly to her feet, as if she hadn’t been kneeling for the last two hours and approached the furious scientist’s table.

“Dr. Banner, if you would be so kind.” The red-headed woman said with a nod towards the dance floor, where couples were slowly waltzing the night away.

The man took two deep breaths before taking Natasha’s hand, “I would be honored.”

And Steve got the feeling that Bruce meant that with all his heart.

“You let her make decisions, Fury?” A disgruntled general from Homeland Security asked the director sitting next to him.

“She’s acting within the parameters of her orders.” Fury replied, single eye hard as he glared back.

And as Banner visibly began to relax as he twirled Natasha around, Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully they’d get through this night in one piece and without starting a brawl, but seeing the way Clint’s boredom was progressively getting worse ( _the archer had a habit of finding projectiles and targets to aim said projectiles at, Steve had noticed_ ) the super soldier found it highly unlikely. Coincidentally, if a fight did break out, Steve might accidentally punch the event coordinator for his lousy choice of seating arrangements and menu. You know, accidentally.

Suddenly, Steve had something to look forward to as Clint flicked a soggy piece of bread onto the Director of the NSA’s toupee.


End file.
